


Scattered Sparks

by senroh



Series: Odds and Ends [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Centers, Expirimentation, Gen, Jutsu Gone Wrong, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sage Mode (Naruto), Sage!Tobirama, Super Chakra Soulmate Powers, Temporary Amnesia, because that needs to be a Tag now, disphoria, finfolk, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:21:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senroh/pseuds/senroh
Summary: Scattered mostly unconnected scenes from fics that I never got around to fully fleshing out.Mostly Tobirama centered.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Odds and Ends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212149
Comments: 19
Kudos: 105





	1. Dawn Breaks Under a Veil of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by KeanBlade's Red-verse fics.  
> What if Madara had realized that Tobirama is his Center right there on the battlefield before it was too late to save him?

He sees it from across the field, Izuna falling, the Senju Demon pausing above him sword poised to- drop? 

The Senju dropping to his knees over his greatest detractor and foe, hands lighting green,  _ healing  _ the wound he just wrought. 

Izuna,  _ furyfearmadness  _ on his face as he lifts with an arm shaking from effort the sword still in his hand, and sinks it home in his healer's chest. 

Tobirama, gaze flickering to the weapon being raised against him,  _ resignationexhaustion  _ in his eyes, even as he turns them back to healing, only a bare flinch as the blade sinks in through a gap in his armor giving evidence of his pain. 

Madara gets there just in time, his sharingan seeing that Tobirama is about to disengage in such a way (the only way possible to do so without assistance) that will tear a greater wound in his chest, but as the green light of healing fades, and Tobirama's muscles bunch, Madara catches him, pulling him quickly away so that Izuna's sword has no chance to widen the cut (less of a chance of dishonorably murdering one who had aided him in a battle which should have named them foes).

He is about to set the Senju aside, sure that Hashirama will look after him, when his eyes catch on the shocked red eyes that are meeting his for the first time. 

For that moment the world stands still.

As Madara meets those red red eyes for the first time-

it is as if his heart swells to fill his whole chest, 

as if the Daybreak has come after a life in darkness, 

exquisite pain and effervescent joy blending together in clamorous unity 

until all he can  _ seehearknowfeelsense _ is Tobirama.

And then the world around them returns briefly as Hashirama jostles them rushing passed without even a glance at his dying brother, instead going straight for Izuna with his healing hands, and Madara-

Madara with his whole world resettled with Tobirama as the Center, feels true despair crawling up from the pit of his stomach into his throat as blood beads up out of Tobirama's mouth. Tobirama, who he has only seen expressing anger, calculation, triumph, or frustration on the battlefield, looking at him with  _ shockwonderlongingawe _ that is being eclipsed by agony. 

His ears are ringing. He can’t hear himself desperately pleading with Tobirama not to die and leave him alone when he only just found him, can't feel his hand clamping over the gaping wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding at least on the outside. He doesn't notice the Senju kunoichi running towards them, Hikaku and Mikoto keeping pace just behind her, or Hashirama turning toward him, shock and joy warring on his face only to turn to guilt when he sees his brother's condition and Madara's reaction to it. His awareness is narrowed down to Tobirama in his arms, the rattle of his shallow breathing, the fading awareness in his eyes, the subtle shaking of his body as blood loss sets in. The agony on his face is joined momentarily by confusion and something fragile before strain and determination take over. Then Tobirama’s pale hand is reaching for him [but his hands are occupied stemming blood flow and holding his Center up and he cannot reach back], settling on his robe and gripping it weakly before he stills completely.

Madara panics and almost does something as foolish as shaking the other, but it only takes a fraction of a second for him to realize what Tobirama is doing as the lines on his face grow and new lines form in what Madara recognizes from Hashirama as gathering sage chakra. [He didn’t realize that Tobirama is also a Sage, he had never shown that skill anywhere anyone else could see and report it.] Tobirama’s eyes open to reveal catlike icy blue irises surrounding slit red pupils, and Madara nearly loses his breath at the feral beauty of his Center, would lose himself completely in those eyes if his mind weren’t still screaming that he was going to lose his Center when he has only just found him. 

Tobirama’s gaze focuses, giving Madara a strained nod, and the rattling of his breath quiets, the hand not clinging to Madara’s robe comes up wreathed with white-green chakra and lays over where Madara is putting pressure on the wound and Madara feels it going through his hand knitting the flesh back together. He eases the pressure up, and when no new blood rushes out, he carefully eases his hand out from under Tobirama’s to allow him direct contact with what he is fixing. 

When the light of healing chakra fades away and the sage markings mostly fade with it, Madara pulls Tobirama up into his arms, and Tobirama curls obligingly into him, tucking his head in under Madara's chin for as much contact as he can get in plate armor. 

It is only after a moment curled together that Madara becomes aware of the outside world again. The distant sounds of battle, far enough away so as to not be caught up in the more destructive battles of their clan respective main lines, and an almost tangible hum of incredulity and shock in their vicinity. Madara looks up into the faces of his strongest kin and enemies, wondering at how they all could have come so close without his notice. (But it's not really a question is it. He was finding the Center of his world. Nothing is more important or worthy of his attention.)

The moment Hikaku and Izuna see his eyes they both gasp, Izuna pales. A true match then. Not that there was any doubt in his mind, but that his eyes have changed, allegedly now vibrantly purple around the edges of his sharingan, is just one more confirmation, proof for all to see that Tobirama is his, and will not be taken from him by any in his clan, lest they want to induce a madness the likes of which tales say can burn the world to ashes if one were strong enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going somewhere with this but it crashed here and I have no idea how to keep going (TT_TT)


	2. A Longing For Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by The Long Road Home, and Freshwater Kelp 
> 
> A failed experiment sends Tobirama changed, far from home, and without memories. It takes a long journey to return home.

It comes to him slowly, bit by bit.

 _Feelings_ he does not _understand._

A pervasive heaviness in his chest and throat.

_Loneliness_

_Sadness_

_Somethingismissing_

_Longing_

A sense of wrongness.

_He doesn’t belong here_

_Where else would he belong?_

_He wasn’t always like this_

_What else_ could _he have been?_

And then, like the light of the sunrise spearing through the upper most parts of the sea, it comes to him.

_He used to dwell on land._

The memories are vague, what little of them there are; Moving swiftly though wide swathes of

_Forest_

-scenery that can’t be found underwater.

Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth a substance so thin and malleable you can’t even feel it because it doesn’t exert pressure

_Air_

-by itself.

Curiously, he ( _he?_ ) moves upward, cleaving through the water with his powerful tail ( _didn’t there used to be something else down there?_ ) until he is able to breach the surface-

_Cold. Shearing wind. Noise. TooloudTooLOuDTOOLOUD!_

He darts back under the surface, startled and wary. The memories hadn’t seemed like _That_.

There is a pounding in his center,

 _in his heart_

a tingling in his _head_

 _the burning need to_ Know

His head tilts of its own accord, as if trying the see if a different angle of sight will give him different results, as he slowly reaches his hand _claws/talons/spines_ leading.

The tips of his _fingers_ breach the surface and it feels both weightless and heavy as his _hand_ follows. There is a cold pressure coming from his right, almost like the ocean currents he is used to. There is nothing supporting the altitude of his hand, but there is no pressure keeping it from going higher either.

He hums deep in his chest as he turns toward where he can _feel/smell/hear/sense_ a thick grouping of life forms up above the water level.

This might take some _observation_ …

—

The water near the land is… different.

Thick with debris kicked up by the push-pull of the ocean and the crafts that float over the surface of the water.

At first he watches from a distance, wary of getting too close to these unknown

_humans_

-creatures.

He watches their patterns, the ones in the boats casting out nets to catch fish to bring in, the ones at the small shoreline playing in the water and in the sand or collecting clams, shells, and seaweed. He is curious about their _legs_ and their _speech_ , familiar to him in ways that he can’t quite grasp just yet, as if he is staring at something through a jellyfish, not quite able to make out the details.

Then one of the smaller ones

_a child_

-swims out too far and gets caught in a fast moving current. It screams and flails, but by the time those on the shore notice, he is too far out, and the current too strong for them to risk swimming out to get it.

_him_

And the boats are also much too far out. By the time they got a signal to one and it came back it would be far too late.  
He knows, somehow, by the same strangely innate knowledge that crops up often to apprise him of things, that these humans cannot breathe underwater as he can, and that same innate part of him feels with every part of him, human or not, that he cannot allow a child to die when he could prevent it.

He darts forward, propelling himself as fast as he can for the child and scooping him into his arms, spines flattened so they won’t catch on vulnerable skin, and carrying him above the surface, around the powerful current, screaming and flailing all the way to where he can hand him over to the boy’s parents, ears screaming all the way because of how sensitive they became to pick up movement and sound under water. 


End file.
